


Fleeting Moments

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Derek, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Model Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a painter and Stiles is his real life model</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleeting Moments

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by Brii's tags for this beautiful image](http://24.media.tumblr.com/00d66417068162628be9c6339e07393b/tumblr_mh5qo1oSWE1qjf3u1o1_500.jpg)

There are times where Derek wishes that he was more talented in photography than painting. It’s a fleeting desire, one that rests as delicately as a dragonfly on the water surface before it flies away, and it comes around often when he’s around Stiles.

 

However, Derek feels that a photograph, no matter how tasteful or well composed, is incapable of capturing Stiles’ true nature and beauty. It doesn’t matter if the lighting is perfect or the angle is just right - a picture just doesn’t do his love justice. His canvas however, is coming closer and closer to immortalizing Stiles.

 

It’s taken countless sketches - careless and careful both - in a pile of sketchbooks that are littered around their apartment but Derek feels that he’s almost there. But it’s not the posed sketches and paintings that have been the key to his breakthrough. Rather, its the ‘blink and you miss it’ moments that Derek takes mental snapshots of. The moments where Stiles isn’t posing. Ones where he is just  _being._ Those moments make Derek’s hands reach for the nearest sketchpad so that he can immediately draw out the angry wrinkle in the middle of Stiles’ forehead or the toothy grin being directed to the stray cat they’ve adopted.

 

Those moments, if Derek has to make a comparison, are like looking at a diamond. When one ray of light hits the gem just right and it glimmers and sparkles so beautifully that you’re taken aback at the sight. That is what Stiles is like to him - he is a peerless gem. As he watches Stiles stretch sleep-lazy on the edge of the bed, Derek muses that the analogy would probably make Stiles laugh. He’d call it cheesy and pretend to tease him, all the while sporting pink ears and a pleased smile.

 

Stiles is sporting an impressive head of bedhair, wild tufts sticking up in all directions as he yawns and stetches his way out of their bed. He hides his smile into the pillow, eyes lowering as they tip toe down Stiles’ back. There are a few moles and twice as many hickeys peppering the pale skin - all of which making Derek twist in the bed to reach for the drawing pad he’s got on the side table. 

 

As quiet as he can, Derek flips the pad open and picks the pencil up before he looses it in the wrinkled sheets. His eyes dart from Stiles to the white page, fingers easily outlining the laziness in the younger man’s arms and shoulders as he stares out the window. The dip in Stiles’ waist is not something he needs any kind of visual aid for, nor his hands where they’re resting against bright red briefs. The bed hair, all cow licks and flattened sections, brings a half smile to Derek’s lips.

 

"Hey you." Derek looks up at the greeting. But Stiles is talking to the cat who is stretching in her basket, face turned away from Derek. There’s that sparkle again - Stiles half naked, standing in the soft morning light on a Saturday morning, love bites littering his body and showing only the curve of one cheek to Derek. Derek’s fingers move swiftly, not wanting the moment to pass before he can capture it. 

 

He manages to get the bare bones of it on paper when Stiles bends down to scratch the cat behind her ear. “Hi to you too.” This time, the greeting is for him. Derek looks up into warm brown eyes and murmurs ‘Morning’ back before ducking his head.

 

The quite ‘scritch’ of pencil against paper hides behind the quiet conversation that Stiles is having with the cat. Derek catches a few words here and there, more focused on getting the shadows on Stiles’ back just right. To put as much as love into the shaded love bites as he did when placing them on Stiles’ skin. 

 

Derek’s almost done when the bed dips next to him. Next thing he knows, Stiles is pressing against his side and murmuring, “What did you draw this time?” He’s got an arm around Derek’s waist, chin resting on a shoulder top so that he can watch the man work. Derek simply tilts the sketchpad towards Stiles, offering him a better view.

 

Stiles hums, rubs his cheek against Derek’s before murmuring, “S’ pretty good.”

 

"It’s the subject." Derek returns, feeling more than a little happy-smug when he notes how Stiles’ ears turn pink at the compliment. He’s terrible at sweet talking, Derek is ready to admit it. But when he gets such sweet reactions from Stiles, he’s more than willing to try and improve himself. Stiles presses his nose into Derek’s neck, grumbling something before tugging the sketchbook away and pushing Derek back into bed.


End file.
